


Soft Skin and Hard Lines

by WriteLoves



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Porn, F/M, FitzSimmons - Freeform, Fuck Or Die, Hurt Leo Fitz, Hurt/Comfort, Mild torture, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut, Torture, but like, forced to fuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2019-10-06 23:22:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17354585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriteLoves/pseuds/WriteLoves
Summary: I'm contributing this story to expand the small pool of stories with one specific kink(?). Expect more like this in the future.Plot: Jemma and Fitz are taken captive and tortured. Much smut to follow.





	1. Caught like a Criminal in a Chair

Fitz and Simmons weren’t field agents. They did their best, and even ended up kicking ass most days, but at times like these it was painfully obvious they were out of their depth. 

 

Today, they were handcuffed to metal benches on opposite sides of a concrete holding cell. They had been captured and moved to this location several hours ago and Fitz was starting to get impatient. 

 

“What do they even want with us?” asked Fitz. “You’d think they’d have asked already if they wanted information.” 

 

“Well maybe they don’t want information,” said Jemma. “Maybe we’re supposed to be hostages or something.” 

 

“Then why haven’t they taken a picture or video of us yet? You know, something to prove that they have us?” 

 

“I don’t know, Fitz. Maybe they’re waiting for the order to chop us into a bunch of little pieces.” 

 

Fitz stared at Jemma, “Don’t even joke about that.” 

 

Jemma giggled. 

 

* * *

 

Several proposed escape plans later, the door to their cell rattled and a moment later a large man dressed in dark leather stepped into the room. His face was ugly, one of his ears had a chunk missing and his teeth were crooked and yellow with black around the bases. He looked at Fitz and Simmons slowly, as if he were deducing just how breakable they’d be. 

 

Fitz broke the silence. “So, what’s the agenda here? Catch and release I hope? Because I really don’t think we’re worth the trouble of anything else.” 

 

The man looked back at Fitz and laughed, exposing his disgusting teeth in the process.   “Not exactly, little man.” 

 

Fitz bristled but stayed silent. 

 

The man continued, “I actually have orders here from someone who isn’t very happy with you. Claims you ruined his plan or killed his puppy or somethin’ like that. Doesn’t matter to me. All that matters to me is that I carry out his wishes.” 

 

“And what would those be, exactly?” asked Jemma, suddenly timid. 

 

The man shrugged. “Oh the usual. Make them bleed and beg and what have you. There was a bit of something special, we’ll get to that before to long.” 

 

The man left the room for a moment, fetching something in the hallway. He re-entered pushing a cart that clattered and crashed over every bump. The door swung closed behind him. 

 

Fitz was scared now. He and Jemma had gone through the standard training but it looked like they were about to be tortured. He thought again of any possible way of escape, even if it meant that only Jemma would make it out. She was a better runner than him. She could make it to safety and tell the others. But his pockets were empty and his hands were tied. 

 

“Alright, now who wants to go first? Hmm? No volunteers? Guess we’ll have to flip a coin then. How’s heads for the lady and tails for the gentleman?” The man laughed a little to himself and started rummaging through his cart for a coin. 

 

Fitz looked at Jemma, trying desperately to see if she had an idea where he’d come up short. She hadn’t. Her eyes were to wide and filled with fear. Fitz tried to calm his heart and focus his mind. They would get out of here. They just needed an opportunity. He looked at Jemma again and saw that she wasn’t staring back. Her eyes were squarely trained on the tool cart. Brilliant girl! Of course. Their pockets were empty but their captor had just delivered a whole new realm of possibility. But how to get close to it? Fitz was still cuffed to a bench, as was Jemma. 

 

Unfortunately for them, the man had found his coin. One deft flick later, and the choice was declared, “Gentleman it is.” 

 

Fitz jerked, trying to loosen his restrains but to no avail.  The man slid the cuffs to the end of the bench, dragging Fitz with an iron grip. He secured them and added some more chains until Fitz was lying belly-up on the full length of the bench. Then the man took his time rummaging in his toolbox. Grabbing a battery, wires, and such other instruments of electrocution.

 

 “I thought this had a bit of poetic irony, you see,” said the man, “being as you’re a mechanic and all. Heard you worked with zappers, you might even be used to this.” 

 

Jemma was crying now. Trying her best to be quiet and not draw attention. She had to figure a way out before she was trussed up as well or they would both end up dead. Or worse, begging for death. 

 

Fitz wished Jemma wouldn’t cry. It was kind of nice, knowing she cared about him, but the niceness was outweighed by the helplessness he felt at the sight. At least she was safe for now. And would hopefully stay that way for as long as he could hold out. It was quite the motivator to be honest. 

 

The man finished setting up his equipment and approached Fitz once more. This time he set to work on Fitz shirt. The outer layer was unbuttoned, a nice gesture for the circumstances, but the undershirt was neatly clipped away with a pair of scissors. 

 

“Sorry about that,” said the man, “but it was either clipping the shirt or arm, and I’d thought we’d save amputation for later.” 

 

Jemma felt sick as she watched the man attach electrodes to Fritz’s chest. As a biochemist, she was intimately familiar with the bodily response to all sorts of stimuli. And this was going to hurt. A lot. She strained to the edges of her shackles, hoping the man wouldn’t notice her reach for the cart. He didn’t. But the cuffs cut into her skin and she was stopped short, the cart still a foot away. Then she heard a strangled noise from Fitz and a crash of metal against metal. 

 

The man held a button in one hand and a live wire and he smiled down at Fitz. There was a bit of smoke curling up from Fitz‘s side where the hair had been burned away to make room for a red angry streak. She watched as the wire was applied again and Fitz, in convulsions, slammed against his restraints, sending chains scraping against the metal bench to no avail. His pale chest was heaving and she could see his face. He was crying, but his screams were muffled by a leather strap between his teeth. 

 

“Stop! Please, stop,” Jemma cried. This was too much to bear. “Stop hurting him!” 

 

The man’s attention turned towards her and suddenly Jemma felt very, very small. 

 

“A volunteer? Well then, I’m not one to refuse a lady.” The man approached. 

 


	2. Jemma's Special Surprise

The pain faded and Fitz wanted to kiss the angel that had stopped the fire racing through his musculature. Until he regained his senses and realized that the man was no longer beside him, but beside Jemma. Jemma was shaking her head, asking for mercy so politely that Fitz may have teased her for it under other circumstances. But here he felt like crawling out of his skin as the man started tying her down in the same manner as he had Fitz. The man was going to hurt her and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He thrashed and strained but his bonds were too tight. 

The man had finished with Jenna’s bonds, and she too lay on her back, stretched across a metal bench. She was cursing herself for being a fool but trying to remember that she couldn’t reach anything anyway and at least Fitz was safe for a little while. Then the man returned with the scissors. Her blouse had no buttons and a couple of snips later Jemma was left feeling exposed in only her bra. 

Minutes passed. 

What was he waiting for? The man hadn’t touched his electrical supplies. Instead, he simply stared at her, hand on his chin as if deep in thought. Jemma tried to look at Fitz, but she couldn’t see past their torturer. The man’s voice interrupted her attempt. 

“I think it may already be time for your special surprise.” And with another three snips her bra joined her shirt on the floor in pieces. 

To his credit, Fitz didn’t look. He assumed that this was just another piece of the torture. For humiliation or extra skin access during electrocution. Right now he was supposed to focus on reaching the toolbox, if that was even possible with how he was tied up at the moment. At least, that was the plan until he heard Jemma gasp and yell, “Get off of me!” 

Fitz couldn't help it. He turned and looked, and immediately wished he hadn't. The man's large hands were kneading and stroking Jemma's breasts. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut and all Fitz could think was, no no no. Not jemma. Please, stop touching, stop touching her. She doesn't want you touching her. 

It wasn't until a few seconds later that Fitz registered his own voice, loud and desperate. Shouting for the man not to touch her. That she didn't want him touching her. 

The man stopped and turned with an incredulous look on his face. "Are you two together or something?"

After a medium length silence the man prodded Fitz.

"I asked you a question."

"No," Fitz's voice was hoarse, "no, we're not together. But she's my best friend and if you hurt her I'll kill you." 

"Same goes for me," said Jemma. She was smiling at Fitz, despite her fear that his words might kill them both. At least it would be quicker than whatever drawn out horrors the man had prepared. She took a deep breath and decided to go in all or nothing "If you hurt him I'll kill you, and I'll be going the painful route. I'm a biochemist, as I'm sure you know, and my knowledge of human anatomy is even better than yours."

Fitz nearly groaned. Why had she said that? But was surprised when the man let out a deep belly laugh. 

"I think I like you two. Most couples I get in here are blaming each other for me catching them or trying to bribe me. But you two get straight down to business. It's a real pity you're a contract pair instead of one of my hobby catches. But here, how's about I bend the rules a bit? Little man doesn't want me touching you so I won't. Instead he can fill the contract for me. I don't touch you, you don't kill me, everybody wins." The man grinned to himself. 

"Wot?" Fitz was equal parts bewildered and horrified. If the man was saying what he thought he was saying, this was very, very bad. Probably worse than the bad touches earlier and most definitly worse than the straightforward electrocution. 

"So either Fitz touches me or you do?" said Jemma. Her voice trembled a little and Fitz selfishly hoped the man would take away her terrible choice. That he wouldn't make Fitz be the instrument of her torture. 

"Yes," said the man. 

"Then I choose Fitz."

Fitz suppressed a deep, wounded groan. He nearly started crying again, but held back the tears. He couldn't let Jemma see. She probably had some elaborate plan. Maybe he was supposed to steal the tools or only pretend to touch her. But how was he supposed to do this? How could he be the one to hurt her? She had to know he couldn't fake anything with the ma right there.

The man released his cuffs and Fitz sat up, rubbing his hands to regain some feeling. He avoided his wrists, they were cut and bloody from his pulling. He also had electrical burns on across his chest, but there was nothing he could do about those at the moment. A second later his leg restraints were off. He stood up warily. 

The man had picked up a large, wicked looking knife and gestured towards Fitz with it. 

"Well, get on with it."

The man was large, tackling would be useless. And if he died in the attempt Jemma would be left alone with him. No one to help her escape or to give breaks to her torture. Fitz steeled himself. He would do what he had to do to keep them both alive for as long as possible. He walked towards her keeping his eyes fixed on her face. She halfheartedly smiled at him as he approached, but he couldn't return a smile of his own. He was too fixated on the tears leaking from her eyes. He stopped, inches away. 

"Touch her, like I did. I know you were lookin'," said the man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle in folks, we're about to earn our rating. Next chapter soon.


	3. Smooth Skin

Fitz swallowed, then did as the man commanded. He looked down a her breasts. Bare. Beautiful. He reached forward hesitantly. His fingertips brushed smooth, soft skin. He leaned down a little more and cupped the sides of her breasts. Slowly, slowly, his thumbs brushed over her nipples. They were stiff from the cold air. He moved his palms until they covered her, and began to massage as best he could. He could feel himself responding to the feeling of her in his hands. Touching her in a way he thought he never would. Desperate to keep under control he looked back up to her face. 

Jemma’s breathing was controlled and her eyes were closed. Her tears were mostly dry now but all Fitz could think was, "She can't bear to look at me."

He dropped his head, years burning in the corners of his eyes yet again. He knew this was going to happen. He should have fought the man. Ran. Done something! But now it was too late. His hands moved automatically as the man directed him. Squeezing and pulling. Jemma let out a soft gasp when he tugged at her nipple, but the man simply smiled and told Fitz exactly what he should do next. Fitz obeyed, hating the man and himself for it. He idly wondered if this had been the man’s plan all along. To make them torture each other. He wondered if the man had been instructed to do this, or if he got off on it. They would probably never know. 

Fitz lowered his mouth towards Jemma’s body and decided to pretend that she wanted this. That there was no man with a knife directing his every touch, her every whimper. Fitz kissed his way down from her neck to her chest, adding in little nips and licks as he went. He took one of her nipples into his mouth and his hands wandered down to her hips. Another instruction. Jemma was wearing to many clothes. Her blue jeans were tight, giving her a slight muffin top with no blouse to hide it. Fitz undid her button and zipper. He shimmied the trousers down about halfway before looking expectantly at the man. Either Jemma’s bonds or her jeans needed to be cut. The man grumbled to himself but eventually did come forward. He cut the ropes holding Jemma’s feet, much to Fitz’s surprise. Jemma opened her eyes when her legs were free and Fitz could feel her watching him. A glimmer of hope appeared. Sliding her jeans the rest off the way off was easier, despite now being faced with a pantie clad Simmons. 

Another order from the man had Fitz sliding his fingers beneath Jemma’s waistband. He felt her body’s involuntary response. A jump of her hips as he brushed her clit and a slick wetness between her folds. He withdrew his hand. Another order. Fitz raised his fingers to his mouth and sucked the taste of Jemma from them. He looked at her, stretched out in front of him. Practically naked. She was so beautiful. His best friend and the woman he loved. Not that she loved him back. But that hardly mattered now. He would spare her as much pain as he possibly could before they died down here. Fitz’s fingers touched her waistband again, but this time he dragged it downwards. Her panties off, Fitz knelt, lying across the bench, face inches away from her bare pussy. He felt her legs tremble as his breathe hit her skin. Her hips bucked when he lowered his mouth onto her. His tongue circled her entrance and slid between her folds, but he avoided her clit until he heard her high pitched whine. He hadn’t meant to tease. Never meant to make her beg in front of a stranger. He had forgotten for a moment just where they were. Maybe pretending wasn’t the best thing for him to do after all. He promptly rectified his mistake, sliding one finger inside of her and suckling at her clit with purpose. He felt her muscles squeeze around his finger as she came. 

Fitz ached inside of his own suddenly tight pants. But still he hoped that this might be the end of it. That the man only wanted an orgasm from her and that that may be enough. A fool's hope of course. 

"How lovely," the man's voice was loud and jarring, not at all like the soft instructions he had given over the past few minutes. "But ladies shouldn't have all the fun. So come on darling, let's see how well you can suck a cock."

Fitz rocked backwards. He was about to protest, say something crude about how they were supposed to be getting tortured here and wouldn't the man rather just go back to electric shocks. But then he realized the man was unbuckling his own belt, approaching Jemma with lustful eyes. In an instant Fitz was on his feet, standing between Jemma and the man. 

"Don't. You Dare. We had a deal. You touch her, you die. Remember?"

The man paused, seemingly taken aback by Fitz's venom. But then his face broke into a smile. 

"Don't you worry, little man. I wasn't about to molest your lady. Just getting her ready for you. Here." The man stepped forward, pushing past Fitz and nicking him slightly with the knife, as if to remind him who exactly was in charge here. He unlocked Jemma's hands and pulled her up roughly. She looked at him balefully. He ignored her, grabbing her arms and securing them behind her back using his belt. Fitz breathed a sigh of relief. 

A moment later, that breathe was stolen away. Jemma was sitting stark naked in front of him, breasts thrust forward, hair messy, looking him directly in the eyes. She averted her eyes a second later, and Fitz felt his cheeks go red. She had caught him looking. 

The man was impatient. He grabbed her arm and forced her off the bench and onto her knees. 

"Get on with it already. You," He pointed at Fitz, "Take off yer pants."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm, I'm really feeling a Jemma POV of this chapter. Maybe later. 
> 
> Also, if you think something should happen, should have happened, should be written better, etc. Let me know! I love feedback of all kinds and don't mind critiques.


	4. Skin and Bones

Fitz did as he was told. He pointedly stared at the floor as he eased his pants off, freeing his erection. It was just a biological response. He knew that. But it was still the result of Jemma's humiliation, and he felt shamed the she would see it. Touch it. Oh God, she was going to touch it. 

The man wasn't satisfied. He grabbed Jemma, hauling her up and pushing her closer to Fitz. She lost her balance and stumbled, landing hard on the floor, hands still bound behind her back. 

“Hey!” Fitz shouted. He ran to help Jemma up. Placing one hand on her waist and another on her shoulder, they worked together until both were standing. Fitz inspected Jemma for any injuries, gently touched the scrape across her cheek. Jemma gave him a reassuring smile, then turned her gaze to the man.

“There was no need for that,” she hissed at him. 

“Whatever. Get on with it.” 

Jemma looked at Fitz. They could do this. Get through this together. He had touched her, now it was her turn to repay the favor, or rather, repay the torture. Fitz couldn't decide which it was at the moment. 

Jemma carefully lowered herself back down onto her knees. His cock was level with her face now. He could feel her breathe against his skin. 

“Ready?” She asked. He would never be. But he nodded anyway. The anticipation was starting to become painful.

He twitched as he felt her tongue touch the tip of his cock. It was so much warmer than the cold air of the room. She licked up and down from base to tip a few times, taking breaks to twirl her tongue around the ridges of the head. She even gave a few experimental licks to his balls. Fitz tried to keep his breathing even, but when Jemma finally took him into her mouth he gasped and involuntarily bucked his hips. She gagged and withdrew, looking up to give him an accusing look. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered and she accepted his apology, dropping her eyes back down to his waist and taking his cock back into her mouth. It wasn't easy for her. She didn't have the use of her hands and every now and then his cock would slip out or he'd feel more than a slight hint of teeth. But she got the hang of it before too long.

Fitz watched Jemma suck his cock. Her head bobbing up and down, her breasts swaying with the same movement. He closed his eyes and focused on the sensation. He had a goddess on her knees in front of him and he couldn't bear to watch. It was too much. He moaned as Jemma took him deeper into her mouth and throat and his knees almost buckled. 

"Jemma, I'm about to cum," He said hoarsely, warning her that he he was approaching the edge. A moment later he felt Jemma's teeth scrape his cock harder than they had before, drawing him rapidly away from the edge, and his eyes flew open. Jemma was being pulled backwards by her hair. She thrashed and yelped. The man had grabbed a fistful of Jemma's brown locks and was using them to hold her semi-upright.

"Jemma!" This time Fitz's voice was full of worry, "Let her go! What are you doing?"

The man cocked an eyebrow and did as Fitz asked. He dropped Jemma like a sack of potatoes and she fell backwards, landing awkwardly on her arms letting out another cry of pain. 

"Fuck her," ordered the man.

Fitz didn't move. He stared daggers at the man.

"I said, Fuck. Her."

"No," said Fitz, "not until you unbind her hands."

"Why?"

"Because she's obviously hurt and I don't want to make it worse."

The man thought about it, then shrugged. He quickly locked Fitz's hands onto one of the bars on the opposite side of the room, then he went to rummaging in his toolbox. Fitz had a horrible thought that the man was about to punish him for talking back like that. That he was going to torture Jemma like he had tortured Fitz. Suddenly, being forced to fuck his best friend didn't seem nearly as bad as watching her get cut into little pieces. 

Jemma had rolled onto her side, curled into the fetal position. She couldn't get up easily and if she tried the man was likely to just knock back down again. Her wrist throbbed. Finally, the man finished rummaging and untied the belt, letting her rub and prod at her wrists. 

"Looks like you've got a sprain at least," he commented.

"Yes," said Jemma, "I know."

"Hold your hands in front of you and let me take a look."

Jemma did as she was told. The man had retrieved a compression bandage from his cart of many things. He took it out and wrapped her wrist, securing the bandage with a metal clip painted like a butterfly.

"Thank you," said Jemma.

"You're welcome. But you won't be thanking me in a moment," said the man. He moved gently this time, guiding Jemma in his iron grip until she lay back on the floor. Face-up, arms above her head, and handcuffed around one of the bench legs.

"Now," said the man motioning for Fitz to stand, "you fuck 'er."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got to run, may edit more later. Enjoy!
> 
> Edit 1/29/19: I changed one word. Also, it was surprisingly difficult to write this scene with Jemma's arms trapped behind her back. That, combined with Fitz not being an asshole, really limits your choices.


	5. Fucking Finally

Fitz felt like he had used up all his luck getting Jemma's wrist looked after. Otherwise he would have protested the man's order to fuck Jemma where she lay. The floor was cold. The floor was dirty. There were at least three other places in this room alone they could do this more comfortably. But, he supposed the man didn't care much about his prisoner's comfort.

 

Fitz looked down at Jemma. He had thought it a dozen times in the last hour and he thought it again, she really was beautiful. Of course, she would have been more beautiful without the dirt on her arm and face. Her knees were all red and bruised as well. He hoped that he and Jemma would get a chance to pay back the bastard for every scrape and humiliation before they died. 

 

The man motioned with his knife, "Legs open, sweetheart." 

 

Jemma did as she was told, bending her knees and spreading herself open before Fitz. He could hardly breath. He knelt between Jemma's legs. He positioned her thighs, her hips. He couldn't stall much longer. Fitz looked into Jemma's eyes. She had been watching him. She must have felt his hands shaking when he touched her, and she was crying. 

 

Her tears triggered something in him and he angrily dashed at his his own traitorous eyes. It was time. 

 

Fitz positioned himself as best he could. Jemma’s skin was cold, as was his. He lowered himself into his forearms his chest brushing against hers. He tried to get her to look at him. Her face was screwed up and her eyes were closed. She had bee so brave just a second ago, but the reality of what was happening seemed to be too much. 

 

“Jemma?” He croaked. His voice broke in the middle of her name, throat tight with nerves. “Jemma, please look at me. I can’t do this without you, please don’t make me do this without you.” 

 

Jemma breathed deeply, her chest rising to meet his and she looked at him. “I’m sorry, Fitz. I’m here. We can do this.” She nodded decisively as if to convince herself as well as him. 

 

“Get on with it.” The man watched passively. 

 

Looking into her eyes, Fitz moved. Adjusting his position, he began to stroke himself, readying the nerves for the task at hand. He saw Jemma’s eyes flick downwards and was struck with a bought of self consciousness. Painfully aware of his movements, he lowered himself toward her entrance and, to his surprise, Jemma shifted her hips to meet him. Her slickness caught him off guard he slid into her more quickly than he intended too. She was warm and soft and it nearly made him cry out. She gasped and he paused, resting inside her. 

 

“I’m alright,” she reassured him, “really.” She squeezed her muscles to prove it and smiled a little at his stunned expression. The unexpected sensation nearly made him buckle. He steeled himself, pulled back, and started to thrust slowly. After a few seconds she started to rise and meet him, wrapping her legs around him.

 

It wasn’t perfect. Fitz could feel the gritty floor digging into his arms and hear every awkward sound echo in the small, silent room. He picked up his pace. Slowly heat built between them and sweat gathered on their skin. Fitz tried to slow his pace at one point, the habit of making sure his partner was taken care of overriding logician thought about where they were at the moment. But a small shake of Jemma’s head combined with a grunted “Faster!” from the man in the corner brought Fitz back to reality. 

 

He closed his eyes and fucked his best friend faster. It wasn’t sweet as he had tried to be before, blocking out the world. The world refused to leave. It was best to get it over with as quickly as possible, before his brain fully processed what was happening. He refused to leave Jemma at the mercy of their captor. A moment later it was over. Fitz withdrew from Jemma and was pulled to his feet by the man. 

 

“Not bad, kid,” the man said, fastening Fitz back onto the metal bench opposite Jemma. Fitz strained to look at her, and bit back a groan as he realized how foolish he had been. A small wet spot on the floor between Jemma’s legs and a glimpse of white reminded him that he had no condom. He had released inside of her without even thinking of potential consequences other than the man’s potential anger. The man spoke again intensify Fritz’s guilt. 

 

“I’d even let you two lovebirds share a bench after that show, if I didn’t think you’d escape. As it is, I’ll give you two a break. It’s getting late and I’ve places to be. But don’t you worry, I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it only took me 8 months! I will never judge abandoned fics again, cliffhangers put you under a lot of pressure. Is E-write-tile dysfunction a thing? Because I finished this in May but it took me forever to get it up.


End file.
